Mr Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II
by K100
Summary: This is the second part of Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man. Natalie and Monk continue their new journey together. COMPLETE.
1. Natalie

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

This _MONK_ tale is a continuation of my other story _Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man_. For a better understanding of what is happening here in Part II, it is suggested that you stop right where you are and quickly read the first part if you haven't already. Do not worry; the other one is not very long, it won't take forever to get back to part II.

In writing the first part, I had no intentions of continuing past that. But as I reread, all the possible places this story could go came to life and here I am introducing a second part. I hope it was not a mistake to continue with this story, but I am sure all of you lovely reviewers will rightfully tell me if this continuation is of worth.

-K100

**NATALIE**

Julie saw her mother, Natalie, once again, deep in thought. Over the past few weeks Julie noticed how her mom seemed happier, while at the same time spending more time in contemplation. Julie sat next to Natalie and waited for her mom to take notice. Finally, Natalie seemed to startle herself out of a daze.

"What's going on, mom?" Julie questioned softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, you've been different lately."

"I don't know. You think I've been different?" Natalie asked.

"Yeah, a little bit, since Christmas."

Natalie let a small smile stretch across her face. It was true; she could not deny the fact that in these first few weeks of the New Year everything was exciting and strange all at once. Since Christmas Eve, Natalie has felt and thought in a way she never imagined she would, and has been eager for a little input on the issue. So, she turned to her daughter—best friend and greatest confidant—and began explaining why her behavior has been less than normal.

"Well," Natalie began, "I think I am beginning to have strong feelings for Mr. Monk."

"Like you're in love with him," Julie stated.

"Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. I never said I'm in love."

"What are you saying than? Is it more than just caring for him?" Julie questioned.

Natalie had to think about that one for a moment, but she realized she had been thinking about it for a while now. She still had no answer, not for herself or anyone else.

"Julie, you know Mr. Monk and I are friends, and you and I have really gotten to know him, and even enjoy him. But during Christmas, I just felt like he meant more to me than just a boss or just a friend."

"I know what you mean," Julie said.

"How?"

"I don't know, it felt like he just fit with us. It wasn't like he was my mom's boss. It hasn't felt like that in a long time."

Natalie smiled, "I guess you do know what I mean… Anyway, "she softened her voice, becoming a little shy, and said," on Christmas Eve—after you went to bed—I kissed him."

Julie smirked, "I knew something was going on."

"No you didn't"

"Yes, something was up between you two," Julie said with a wide grin. "Why did you do it? Why did you dance with him or kiss him if you're not sure you love him?"

"It's more complicated than you're making it sound." Natalie paused, "how did you know I danced with him?"

"I saw the whole thing. But let's not avoid the issue here."

"Wait, I'm the mother. I should be spying on you, not the other way around. Did you see everything?"

"I wasn't spying, mom. I just happened to witness a tender moment," Julie said.

"Don't mock me," Natalie said, partly in fun and partly in seriousness.

"Sorry…" Julie said. "Was it right? When you kissed him, did it feel right?"

"You've been watching too much Dr. Phil."

"Mom…"

Natalie looked at her knowing daughter and answered honestly, "It was wonderful. He made me feel safe… And he kissed me back, I don't know if I expected him to, but he kissed me back. That was nice."

Julie saw the contentment on her mother's face. "So what now? Mr. Monk hasn't been around very much since then."

"I know, we've been avoiding each other," Natalie said. "I've needed time to think about this, and God knows he needs time. He can't decide what kind of socks to buy without it being a major ordeal. But sooner or later he and I will have to talk about this. We'll have to talk about us."


	2. Adrian

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**ADRIAN**

The room was completely still, and few words had been spoken for nearly ten minutes. Dr. Kroger shifted his weight uneasily in his chair as he become more impatient. It was odd for the physiatrist to be anything but patient, yet his limits were being met with Adrian Monk. The session began with Monk walking in the office with a glaze over his eyes and a slump in his usually stiff posture. From this, the doctor knew there was something abnormally amiss about his familiar client.

With great care Dr. Kroger spoke in a soft, soothing tone. "Adrian, is there something you would like to talk about?"

Monk looked up and slightly shrugged his shoulders.

That was good enough Dr. Kroger to forge on. "How was your holiday? Restful, I hope… Mine was very nice. Did you do anything interesting?"

"I solved a murder right before Christmas," Monk replied faintly.

"That's good. But it must be horrible to deal something like that during a time when people should be more loving and kind to each other."

Monk didn't reply. The doctor knew this would be a very long session if things kept up this way.

"Look, Adrian, I know you need to get something off your mind. I can see how it is bothering you."

"… It's just that, I don't know, this Christmas was a bit confusing, I guess," Monk said.

"How was it confusing?"

Monk looked at his shoes for a long time not knowing what to say, he waited for Dr. Kroger to fill the silence.

"How did you spend your Christmas, Adrian?"

Monk replied, "With Natalie and Julie."

"Well, that sounds very nice. I'm sure you had a good time, I know how much you enjoy being with them."

"I had a great time," Monk said honestly. "It was the happiest I've been in a very long time."

"Why was it confusing if you know you were happy?" Dr. Kroger questioned.

Monk sighed, "because I've only been that content and happy with one other person, with Trudy. And to feel that great with someone else is frightening… I feel guilty."

"Why in the world should you have any guilt? She would love to know that you are happy." Dr. Kroger softly demanded.

Monk closed his eyes tightly before opening them to address the doctor. "Natalie and I…" he pause, "we kissed."

The two men stared at each other for a moment before Dr. Kroger asked, "the kiss was a romantic one?"

"Yes… at least I think it was…it's been a long time." Monk slumped even more; perhaps it was further depressing to have to question another's romantic intentions.

"This is not a bad thing, Adrian. I had no idea the two of you had these kinds of feelings for one another. This is good; this is a big step for you."

Monk buried his face in his hands, "I love Trudy."

"And you always will," Dr. Kroger jumped in, "but you have a big heart, and you can love someone else without losing your love for Trudy."

"I don't know."

"Yes, Adrian, now tell me the truth. Do you feel strongly for Natalie?"

Monk thought about how much he enjoyed being with Natalie in every way. He had let himself—for a few days at least—be lost in her embrace. Then he thought about the situation in more logical terms and found it alarming.

"Adrian?" Dr. Kroger asked. "How did it feel to have Natalie's lips against yours?"

"Perfect," Monk whispered, "and being in her arms was the safest I've felt in a long time."

"It seems to me," Dr. Kroger said, "you are not at all confused about the way she makes you feel."

"I wish it never happened, I wish we never kissed, then things would be the way they were. At least then I would know where she and I stand."

"I don't think you really wish that because I think you know that the prospect of love is something no one should ever willingly give up. If Natalie cares for you as much as I think she does, then you have a wonderful journey ahead."


	3. Worth a Shot

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**WORTH A SHOT**

It was a very familiar scene, and she hated that. Natalie knew the sight of a dead body was gruesome and sad, but after seeing so many, it had become less shocking. An equally familiar sight was watching Monk work a crime scene like an overly dramatic actor with few lines. He ducked and weaved, squinted and stared, all for the good of his performance. Then he would end his first act—in the production of solving murders—ready for act two to lead him closer to the grand finale, the summation.

Natalie drove Monk home after he was done with the crime scene; he was silent nearly the entire way. She did not want to force him into talking before he was ready, but she figured he may never be fully ready, so now was as good a time as any.

"We need to talk some time," Natalie said, stating the obvious as she pulled up to his building.

"I know," he said, sort of squinting as if the sun where in his eyes.

"How about now?" Natalie said in a near whisper, not sure if she was even ready.

Monk paused and thought about how much he really just wanted to ignore the whole thing. Maybe it would all go away.

"…Okay," Monk said reluctantly, "let's talk."

Natalie was surprised he was being so easy and reasonable, he is never reasonable.

The two entered his sterile, yet humble, abode and sat on his couch as Monk nervously spouted out what he thought she wanted to hear, but not what he wanted to say.

"We both know that the kiss and everything was a mistake, and that life would be better if we just went back to the way things were."

Natalie was slightly dismayed, and he could see it on her face.

"I mean," Monk continued, trying to soften what he just said, "you don't have to…you don't have to pity me or pretend to have those kinds of feelings for me. It's okay."

After gathering her thoughts, Natalie said, "I'm not exactly sure what you're saying, but I didn't think anything that happened was a mistake. And I was hoping you enjoyed it as much as I did."

"Oh," Monk whispered.

They both sat silent. Monk was pleased she didn't think what happened was a mistake, but it would have been easier if she did.

"I should just go," Natalie said, as she stood to leave.

"Don't, please." Monk stood in front of her blocking her route to the door.

"If you thought that our—oh, I don't know—tenderness, for lack of better words, was wrong, than maybe it was," she said. "I don't want to try to make you have feelings for me either."

"Natalie…" Monk sighed, "you don't have to _make_ me have feelings for you. I already do…adore you."

She looked into his eyes, "you said it was a mistake."

"Because I'm scared. I'm scared to want you as much as I do," he said as his shoulders slumped and his eyes focused lazily at the floor.

"You want me?" she asked.

He nodded his head.

She cautiously drew close to him, and wrapped her arms around his motionless body. Finally, he put his arms around her pulled her a little closer. Silently, they stayed like that for a few moments.

"I think we should give this a chance. We should try to have a relationship together. To me, you're worth a shot," Natalie said quietly.

"I am?"

"Yes," she said as she let her head rest on his shoulder.

Monk smiled. "I'm worth a shot," he said to himself.

She heard him.

"A date would be nice," Monk said with a confidence that was surprising, especially to him. "I'll cook you dinner tomorrow night, if you want to come over. I'd say we could go out, but I'll need more than a day to pick out a restaurant."

"I'll be here."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek before leaving. Monk has received many kisses on the cheek from her in the past, ones of friendship, but this one was remarkably different. This one was sweet and lingering, and it was also amazingly sexy. He just wished she would come back kiss him on the other cheek, to make things even.


	4. A First Date

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**A FIRST DATE**

"Red," Julie said, "the red dress is the best."

"You sure?"

"Yes mom, you look wonderful in it, and I'm sure Mr. Monk will think so too."

"You're the boss," Natalie said as she went to pick out shoes.

"So mom, are you nervous?"

"Can you tell?"

"Just a little. But I can also see that you're happy."

Natalie knew her daughter was right. "I am happy, and apprehensive. We both know how Mr. Monk can be. One minute things will be fine, and the next minute it's pandemonium. I like him for who he is, but sometimes he can be difficult. I just hope things go well tonight."

"I'm sure it will all be fine. I mean, he kissed you, think about that," Julie said. "He can't even shake hands with most people. He must really like you to be able to put his fears behind him just to be with you."

The door bell rang and Monk took a deep breath. He quickly reviewed the room for anything that may be out of place, of course everything was perfect. He adjusted his shirt collar and opened the door.

There she stood; wearing a modest red dress and an enchanting smile, she was beautiful.

"Please, come in," Monk managed to say.

"Thank you."

"You look wonderful, Natalie."

"This old thing," she laughed. "You look very nice as well."

She was not just being kind and returning the complement, she really meant it. He was wearing a stark white shirt—buttoned to his chin—and jet black slacks. This was him changing it up a bit. But it was his honest smile that she liked the most. It fit him well. There was something about the way his face lit up when he smiled; it made him look like a little boy hidden in a man's body.

"Well something sure smells good," Natalie noticed. "It's making me hungry."

"Let's eat."

Monk pulled out a chair for Natalie and served them both. He was careful to separate the food so nothing was touching. A very important part, he felt, of assuring things go well. Their dinner conversations were mundane and a bit awkward at first, but soon the ease at witch they talked returned to a normal and effortless level. The topics were mainly of Julie and resent murders, the kinds of things they always talked about. Natalie beamed as she told Monk about how excited she was that her brother was coming to visit, she hadn't seen him since the wedding fiasco.

When they were done, the two put away all the food and dishes. Natalie wished they could just leave those chores for later, but she knew it would drive him crazy if it were not done. Thankfully, it proved to be a very good way for them to continue their date. They laughed and Monk playfully joked when she would put things in the dishwasher incorrectly. As they moved around, their bodies would slightly, and purposefully, touch.

As Monk made two cups of coffee, perfectly even, Natalie sat on the couch and waited. He soon arrived setting the drinks on the coffee table in front of them. They sat next to each other as a silence fell over the room.

"You're wearing the locket I gave you," Monk said.

"Yes, I love it," Natalie said. "You know Mr. Monk…"

"You should call me Adrian, because, you know, it's my first name."

"Right. That could take some getting used to, in a good way."

Natalie then rested her hand on his upper thigh. She could feel him tense substantially. She softly leaned over and kissed his cheek as she unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

"You know, I've wanted to do that for years."

"Thank you," Monk said, gazing into her eyes.

He then leaned in very, very slowly and met her lips. They touched ever so slightly, it was—as Monk noticed before—perfect. The light kiss lingered in sweetness. Natalie then took Monk's arms and wrapped them around her body as she kissed more.

She was careful not to be so foreword with him, taking things slow was her plan. It was a plan not only to meet his needs, but a plan to meet her needs as well. She knew that he was not just some guy she met at a bar. He was a man she has learned to respect, learned to like, and now, maybe even will learn to love. Because of that, he was almost fragile, broken so many times before, he was to be handled with great care.

They tenderly and excitedly devoted more to each other. After some time, Monk began touching her more freely, but still cautiously. Tentatively kissing her mouth, her neck, and parts of her bare shoulders, he was overwhelmed. Never did Monk think he would ever be this close to another woman.

He was a bit awkward, but Natalie found it endearing. Lost in his fumbling embrace, she wished she could stay the night with him, but she knew it must be late.

"Adrian," she managed to say between kisses. "What time is it?"

He looked at the clock, "Almost midnight."

She sighed, "I guess I should get going. I don't want to leave Julie home alone this late."

"Right," He said a little breathless. "You should get home to her than."

She stood and gathered he purse and straightened her dress. The small clock on his mantle struck midnight.

"My favorite time of the day—and night—is twelve o'clock, AM and PM," Monk said pointing to the clock. "The hands are aligned perfectly."

"I'm not surprised," she said giving him one last kiss. "Thank you for a fantastic evening."

"Thank you."

The door shut and Monk let out a long sigh.


	5. Obstruction of Justice

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**OBSTRUCTION** **OF JUSTICE**

The morning after their date, Natalie still had to go to work. She listened to her alarm clock go off and wondered if Monk would allow her to be about an hour or two late. Normally he would never go for it—although she did it nearly everyday—but things were different, although they looked the same. Fighting the deep want to go back to sleep, Natalie regretfully got out of bed.

"Hey, boss," Natalie said cutely as she entered Monk's house.

"Hi," Monk said with little enthusiasm.

As she kissed him on the cheek and her heart sank, she knew something was wrong. "What is it?" she asked.

"I couldn't sleep last night."

"Really, well, I couldn't sleep very well either, I just kept thinking about you," she said this in fun, but Monk was serious.

"What are we doing?" Monk asked.

"Don't do this."

"You're with me, and I can't think. I can't think because I'm happy and things are good. But then you leave and I start to think. I stay up all night thinking. All the reasons why we shouldn't do this bombard me."

"Maybe I should just stay with you all the time and things will be fine."

"Natalie," Monk said, exasperated. "I look at a picture of Trudy and I hate myself because I can't figure out what happened, who killed her. It is my job as her husband and as a detective, I have to figure it out, and I can't be happy until I do."

A long, thick silence devoured them.

Natalie decided she would be the one to talk, "I know you are concerned about this, about us, but I think you're over reacting. We've only had one date, and your life isn't all that different because of it."

"You don't understand."

"I don't understand?" Natalie said, hurt. "I don't understand how much it hurts to loss a spouse and how hard it is to go on? I am the only one who understands. And I know you'll always love Trudy because I will always love Mitch. Sometimes I think you're just looking for excuses to be miserable."

Monk's shoulders slumped, "maybe you should take the day off."

"Fine, I have other things to do," she said, walking toward the door. "I have to go dress shopping with my daughter for a father-daughter dance she can't take her father to. So, my brother has to take Julie so she can feel a little normal. My life goes on, and so does yours."

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"What about this one?" Natalie asked Julie, holding up ugly grass-green dress.

"Only if you buy one just like it."

"Never mind, lets move on."

They maneuvered through the department store like big-game hunters on safari, stalking the perfect sale on the right item. The item on the hunt was a dress for the father-daughter dance. Julie was happy to go to the dance mainly because all of her friends would be there. She hadn't told Natalie about it right away, possibly in some sort of effort to slip it past her mom without her ever knowing. Julie knew how sad it could make her, but Natalie found the filer and lightly persuaded her to go with Uncle Jonathan. There were many girls going with uncles, stepfathers, grandfathers and an assortment of other male influences, so going with her uncle was not a problem.

"So now that you and Mr. Monk are 'together'," Julie used air quotes when she said _together_, "is he going to give you more days off, because that would be a nice perk."

"About that, we had a bit of a fight. I think that is the only reason he gave me today off," Natalie said. "Actually, I don't know if we can be together."

"You two already had a fight?"

"Well, it wasn't a fight, it was more of a… I don't know. You know how he is."

"What did you do? Fold a dish towel the wrong way," Julie said with a smirk.

"You're assuming it was my fault?"

"No, I was kidding. What happened?"

"I don't really know. But I just don't think he will ever be ready to be with anyone."

"I'm sorry," Julie offered comfort. "I know what will make you feel better."

"What?"

"Buying me a beautiful dress and shoes to match."

They both laughed, something Natalie needed. So, the dress hunt continued as they strolled through the store arm-in-arm.

"When is Uncle John coming?" Julie asked.

"He should be here tomorrow."

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Monk sat quietly in the passenger seat of the patrol car as Lt. Disher drove him to the crime scene.

"So," Disher asked, "give Natalie the day off?"

"Yeah."

"That's good, she needs it." Disher couldn't handle the quite, "is she sick?"

"No."

"Okay, that's good."

More quiet.

Disher continued his one-sided conversation, in fact he liked it. "So, you never give her the day off, is Julie sick? I here there is something going around. Detective Gray was sick last week, threw-up all over the car when we were heading to a crime scene."

Monk stopped breathing, "this car?"

Disher knew what he had done, "well, yeah. But it was cleaned!"

It was too late, Monk started rolling down the window and yelling, "let me out!"

Disher was afraid that if he didn't, Monk would jump out of the window. "Okay, okay," Disher said pulling to the side if the road.

The car hadn't stopped and Monk threw open the door and jumped out. He was hyperventilating. Disher turned off the car—even though he was double parked—and found Monk. Disher told Monk to breathe but that wasn't working, so he brought him to a table in an outdoor eating area and had Monk sit down. It took a second for Monk to calm down, but he eventually did.

"That car should be burned," Monk said.

"I'll keep that in mind. But for now, we have to get to the crime scene, Captain is waiting."

"I will not get back into that germ infected hell-vehicle."

"I'll call you a cab," Disher suggested.

"Oh, and those are better," Monk said, sickened.

"Monk, I know for a fact that you've ridden in a cab before."

"Those times where in desperation. I've already been exposed to so many germs today I can't handle anymore, I've met my quota."

"Well I can either steal a car or call Natalie, it's too far to walk," Disher said as he pulled out his cell phone.

"Steal a car."

"Yeah."

"I mean it, don't call Natalie," Monk said in an all too serious tone.

Disher put down his phone, "what is going on between you two?"

"That blue one over there looks fine, lets take that one."

Disher was puzzled, "did she quit?"

"No, we just aren't good right now."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, Lt. Disher."

Disher began dialing a number as Monk sat there; he called the Captain and told him the whole story and how it may be a while until they can arrive. Then Disher handed Monk the phone.

"Monk, if you don't tell him what is going on and get over here, I will have Disher arrest you for obstruction of justice," the Captain said over the phone. "And that means he will have to handcuff you and put you in the patrol car."

Monk handed the phone back to Disher A little defeated.

"So," Disher asked, holding up his handcuffs, "what is going on?"

"I may have messed everything up."

"Like what?"

"Everything. Do you think I try to make my life miserable?"

"Yes," Disher said. "Most of the time."

The reality was hard, and Monk felt sick. Tears ran slowly down his cheeks.

"Hey," Disher said, "are you okay? What I meant was you only make life miserable in a good way."

Monk leaned over the table as if to tell a secret, Disher leaned in also. "I think I may love Natalie, but just don't know how to be with her."

"You love her. Wow."

Monk gave an overview of the whole situation leading right up to the last time he saw her. Disher sat there for a little while mulling it all over.

"So," Disher began, "You need to win her love, her trust, and you need to do it soon because she's hot and men are probably hitting on her as we speak, maybe even a few women too."

"Oh God."

"No, no, no. We can do this, I am the king of romance, and I know romance starts with flowers."

The two sat there and devised a plan.


	6. Jumping From A Plane

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**JUMPING FROM A PLANE **

Parked down the street, just within view of the house, Monk, Lt. Disher, and Captain Stottlemeyer sat in the dark car and waited. The Captain, every now and then, would take out the binoculars look around; but it was hard to see anything because the sun had gone down nearly three hours ago.

"I wonder how long this is going to take, we've been sitting here for two hours," Stottlemeyer said.

"Isn't it exciting," Disher said, taking a look through the binoculars.

Monk was lying down in the back seat with an ice pack on his head, "I think the excitement could kill me."

"There!" Disher pointed, to the silver Jeep pulling into the driveway of the house they were watching. They all stared intently out the windshield as Natalie and Julie entered the house.

"Alright Monk," the captain said, "you're on."

"I can't do this."

"You can and you will."

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They stood there in complete shock. The house was filled with perfect pink lilies. _What is going on_? Natalie thought.

Julie set down her new dress, greeted her dog, Skippy, and walked around the house counting the flowers.

At first, this scared Natalie because someone had entered the house to put all of the flowers in there. But, a note near the front door calmed her. It read:

_I still think you should get rid of that dog,_

_but for my favorite girls, I can handle it._

_-Adrian Monk_

"Ninety-nine," Julie called. "There are ninety-nine flowers."

"Are you sure?"

"I counted twice."

"That's strange."

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Disher said, "look, just do everything we talked about and she will love you, it works every time for me."

"How often do you do this?"

"Well, this is the first time. But I know it will work because I know women."

"Look Monk, you have to go now."

He just sat there, so Disher and Stottlemeyer got out of the car and pulled Monk out as well.

"Stand up," Stottlemeyer demanded. "Look there, you're just fine."

"I can't."

"Randy, grab his other arm."

They got on either side of him and walked Monk, or nearly dragged him, to where the sidewalk meets the path leading to Natalie's house.

"You've got this; she is going to love you. Alright?" Captain said.

Monk shrugged.

"Great!"

With that, Disher and Stottlemeyer took off running back to their car.

"Guys?" Monk said as he watched them run away. "Guys?"

He felt his heart race, but then he looked at the object in his hand and knew what he must do.

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The doorbell rang and startled Natalie. Skippy started barking and Natalie looked through the peephole to see Adrian Monk standing on the other side. He looked nervous, and she realized she was a little nervous as well. Natalie unlocked the door and let him in as Julie looked on.

"Hi," he said

"Hi, is this all your doing?"

"Yes, I had some help. If you don't like it I'll clean it up."

"No, they're my favorite flowers. But I hate to tell you there are…"

"…Only ninety-nine," they said in unison.

He brought his hand from behind his back and handed her the hundredth flower. "I have been terrified to tell you what you mean to me, so I knew that if there were only ninety-nine I would have to bring you the hundredth. I would have to come see you."

"I guess it worked."

"Yes, but I don't think I really needed it," he said as the dog walked past him and barked at the front door. He tensed a little at the sight of the dog but tried to concentrate.

Natalie noticed this, "Julie, the dog needs to be walked; he's been inside all day."

"Mom, it's dark out what if I get murdered or something."

"You'll be fine; you've got two of San Francisco's finest sitting in a car down the street."

"Alright, but you have to promise to fill me in later."

"I will. And tell the Captain and Randy they are not very good undercover."

Julie grabbed the leash and a few other things and took off with Skippy. It was very quite in the house, and that stillness triggered an idea Randy had given Monk in case things get _too_ quite. So Monk, as casually as possible, walked over to the stereo and turned it on. Thankfully, when the three were arranging the flowers, Disher had pre-set it to some nice, slow jazz Natalie had.

"I know you understand how I feel and what I'm going through," Monk said. "I just wish I always understood."

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"Hey, my mom says you two are horrible undercover," Julie said as she reached the car.

"She knows we're here?" Disher questioned.

"Yep."

"So, Julie," the Captain asked, "how's it going in there?"

"I don't know. I got kicked out before anything happened. But I do have this." She held up a baby monitor. "We bought it for Skippy; my mom wouldn't let him sleep in the house until he was housebroken. I used it to listen to him at night."

Stottlemeyer and Disher both looked at it and smiled. "Where is the other one?" questioned Disher.

"In the living room."

"We can't spy on them," the Captain said, being the voice of reason. "And neither should you," he said to Julie. "But, I'm not your father, so whether you listen to me or not is your decision."

She smiled and hopped in the back seat—the dog jumped in as well—and turned it on. But all they could hear was music.

"Oh!" Disher said. "He turned on the music, just like I said."

"But now we can't hear what they are saying," Julie said.

The Captain shook his head, "It's for the best."

So they just sat and listened to the music.

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"You don't have to always understand," Natalie said, "I don't."

Monk sat down on her couch, "I just hope you don't hate me for how difficult I can be."

"I don't think I could ever hate you," she sat down next to him. "How did you get into my house? I never gave you a key."

Monk looked around at all the flowers and pulled from his pocket a note. "This is from the Captain." Natalie read it aloud, "Natalie, I'm sorry; I used the key you gave me to your house. I know I was under strict orders not to let Monk use it unless there was a life or death emergency, but this seemed like and emergency to me. Leland."

Natalie smiled.

"When did you give him the key?"

"Right after I started working for you. I knew if I gave you one I would never get any sleep, you would come over at all hours to have me kill a spider or something. So, just for emergencies, I gave him a key, so he could hold it for you."

"That was smart," Monk said knowing he would have abused the privilege.

Natalie ran a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes as he asked, "can I have one more chance?"

"Yes, but only because you gave me one-hundred flowers, any less and I would really have to think about it."

"Thank you."

"But if you aren't committed, then I don't want to try, I can't handle this back and forth business."

"I'm committed."

She wrapped her arms around him and brushed her lips against his neck. But the moment ended when the phone rang.

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"This is a good song," Disher commented.

"Julie." The three jumped as they heard Natalie's voice over the monitor. "You should come in now."

They all gave little grin as Julie and Skippy got out of the car.

"Keep us posted," the Captain called to Julie.

"Yes sir."

When Julie went inside she knew there was something wrong both Monk and Natalie looked disturbed. She immediately regretted taking the baby monitor. Coming up with a lame excuse for why she had gone outside with it crossed her mind but she figured it was best to take the punishment. _Take the punishment you disserve, just don't lie_, it was something she remembers her father saying. Though she was very young when he died, she would always remember him saying that.

"Honey," Natalie began, "Grandma called when you were outside. And Uncle John was in an accident, he's going to be okay, but that idiot broke both of his legs."

"He what?" Julie questioned. "How did he do that?"

"Well, he was skydiving near San Diego and something happened and he broke his legs. Grandma and Grandpa are going to fly down there tomorrow to see him."

"Why would anyone willingly jump out of a plane?" Monk asked.

"Because they have nothing better to do, it's just like him to do something like this."

"Why would anyone willingly get on a plane?" Monk asked, still puzzled.

"So Julie, he's not going to be well enough to take you to the dance. I'm sorry."

Julie smiled, "its okay, I'm just glad he's alright."

"You're so sweet," Natalie said giving her a hug. "You can still go to the dance. I'll dress up as a man and we'll have a great time."

"It's fine. I didn't really want to go anyway. I just wanted a new dress," Julie said, trying to hide her growing disappointment.

"Look, we'll work something out, okay. But I need to call the hospital; Grandma gave me the number and ordered me to double check on him."

Monk watched as Natalie started to dial and Julie picked up her new dress and shoes and went to her room as Skippy—ever-loyal—followed her. He straightened the flowers as he listened to Natalie get directed from department to department in a telephone search for her brother. The detective's mind was racing as he thought about how wonderful it was that Natalie didn't hate him. But he couldn't concentrate; all he could picture was Julie walking to her room.

Monk knew that walk, he invented that walk, it was a walk of complete disappointment. So, Monk took a walk, he walk to Julie's room and gave a little knock.

"It's me," he said. "Adrian, Monk. Can I come in?"

"Sure."

He opened the door and found her sitting on the edge of her bed with her dog at her side and her dress hanging in the corner. She wiped the tears away from her reddened face and Monk sat next to her. They sat for a while staring randomly around the room.

"I'm sorry about your Uncle."

She just shook her head.

"When I was a kid," Monk began, "I remember looking out my bedroom window and seeing the neighbors playing catch. A son and a father. And by that time, my dad was long gone, and I realized I had never played catch, not that I ever wanted to, but I never had. It hurt to see someone have what I couldn't, a father to be with. So, I know how hard it can be, not having a dad around."

Tears ran down her face, "it's just hard sometimes."

"I know." He placed his hand ever so gently on her shoulder and gave a little squeeze.

"But I'll be fine," she said, sounding just like her mother, always trying to be strong.

"It would be my honor," he said, "if you would allow me to accompany you to the dance."

She looked at him for a moment, "Okay."

"Good, but I apologize in advance."

"For what?"

"Me, being me."

She smiled, "Thank you." Julie leaned over and gave him a long hug as she continued to cry. Normally, he would cringe at the thought of someone crying on his shoulder, but he was happy to be her shoulder, the one he never had.


	7. If Life Were Like A Marching Band

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**IF LIFE WERE LIKE A MARCHING BAND**

Monk stood in front of his bathroom mirror and inspected his face. It was different, he thought, almost as if he hadn't seen it in about ten years. Moving his head from left to right, and back again, it was depressing for him to see few signs of youth left in his looks. His face was wider, yet it sagged, and his skin was wrinkled. His hairline was no longer very defined as it crept further back on his head, but thankfully he was not very gray.

Never had Monk given much thought to what he looked like as long as everything was even. But suddenly it was an issue to worry about. Natalie was nearly ten years younger than him and looked five years younger than her age. In the years he has know her, young men were always flirting with her and she dated many of them, one time a man nearly fifteen years her junior. He didn't think it was impossible for her to like an older man, because she had dated those too, but he felt like not only was he un-youthful in age and looks, but also in personality. In fact, he couldn't even remember a time when he was full of youth.

This all worried him a great deal. He had a date with Natalie the next day and still had not made a plan, so this also worried him. He would think of one thing and then another, but had not made up his mind.

The doorbell rang, interrupting his thoughts, and Monk opened it to regretfully see his neighbor, Kevin, on the other side.

"Hey there," Kevin said walking in. "Question: which _Star Wars_ episode do find to be the best?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen _Star Wars_."

"You haven't? Very interesting, would you like to come watch it now?"

"No," Monk said.

"See, me and a friend of mine were having a rather heated debate on the issue, so I've been surveying as many people as possible. It seems to me that people have rather strong opinions on the matter, many women say they just like Harrison Ford…"

Monk cut him off, "is that all you needed, I have to clean."

"I suppose, I need to make this speedy anyway, I have a big date tonight. She's really hot."

"Great."

"So I'll get going and we can make plans to have a _Star Wars_ marathon some other time, but I have to go…hot date."

"Okay," Monk said, leading him to the door, then he paused. "What are you doing? For your date. Where are you taking her?"

"We are going miniature golfing," he said proudly.

"Really," Monk said, "do people, young people, normally do that on a date?"

"Sure do. That is my favorite place to take the ladies."

"Women like it?"

"They love it. I think because it makes them feel like a kid again, kind of like _Trix_ cereal, or something like that. But the trick is to let them win, always."

"Okay, golf. Sounds great, bye." Monk quickly shut the door.

As he cleaned, the thought of miniature golfing toyed in his mind, it seemed bizarre, but then again, lots of things did. Maybe she would like it; he could show Natalie he wasn't just a boring man.

The phone rang and he knew it was her. In many ways they were completely in tune with each other, in nearly four years together they had developed a kind of like-minded way about knowing what the other needed. He needed to talk to her and the phone rang.

"Hello."

"Hey Adrian, it's me."

"I know, the phone seems to ring differently when you call," he joked.

She laughed, "anyway, I was wondering if you had anything planned for our date tomorrow?"

"Well," he paused, "I was thinking maybe we could go miniature golfing."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I thought it would be fun. Everyone goes miniature golfing, Natalie," he said with as much cool-confidence as he could muster.

"Yes, that is true," she said. "But you don't."

He thought about that, "well, do you want to do something else?"

"I had something in mind," Natalie said, "but if you want to golf, we can do that."

"No, I don't want to golf at all."

She smiled and somehow, over the phone, he knew she smiled. "If you don't want to golf, how about you let me surprise you."

"You know," he said, "I'd rather golf. I hate surprises."

"No, no. Do you trust me?"

"You're about the only one I do trust," he said honestly.

"Then I'll pick you up tomorrow night."

"Okay," he said worried, letting out a small breath into the receiver.

"Don't worry, honey."

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As the city lights glowed in the distance and in the darkness, Adrian and Natalie walked in the dimly lit neighborhood arm in arm down the increasingly steep sidewalk leaving her house behind. She held a picnic basket in the arm not looped around his, and from this, Monk suspected outdoor dining. This worried him, but he trusted her, he had to keep reminding himself of that. From his silence, Natalie suspected he held a bit of trepidation so she pulled him just a bit closer and kissed his shoulder. "It's a good surprise, you'll like it," she said.

He smiled weakly.

Soon they rounded a corner and crossed an intersection to find themselves at a small park. In the distance, there were sounds of a band warming-up and people talking. As they approached a large gazebo with people seated sporadically in front of it, Natalie said, "We're here."

He looked around and she looked at him. Monk smiled weakly again and asked, "what now?"

"Let's find a place to sit."

"But there aren't any chairs."

"That's okay," she said, "I have a blanket, we can sit on that."

"I don't know, Natalie. I like _not_ sitting on the ground."

"Please give it a try, for me."

How could he say no to her? He agreed as long as he could pick the perfect spot, and he did. They say rather far from where the small jazz band was located, but not out of nice hearing range. He carefully flatted the blanket over the ground under a tree that was waiting for spring to replenish its leaves. Natalie waited for him to be completely satisfied with their little spot before sitting next to him and spreading out the food. She made sandwiches, nothing extravagant.

The band looked about ready to play when Natalie leaned over to Monk: "Adrian, that guy in the middle, the clarinet player, he is supposed to be great. He has already played with the L. A. Philharmonic, but decided to go to college before doing any more professional playing. I read about him in the paper and thought you might enjoy seeing him perform."

He smiled, "thank you. But he looks so young."

"Yeah, I think he is only about 16, one of those genius kids, kind of like you. This band is from San Francisco State, so he must have graduated high school early."

The band played, Natalie and Adrian ate, and though the night was a cold one, everything felt good. Every now and then, Monk would inspect the blanket, no doubt for bugs and wrinkles, while Natalie would watch him with fascination.

At intermission Monk said to Natalie, "This is much better than miniature golf."

"I was hoping you would think so. What made you want to go golfing anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know. I just wanted to do something that was fun and youthful, because I can be youthful and not just—you know—me."

"I don't understand," she said with a frown, "youthful?"

"You are just so young and alive, and I'm old, older than you."

She lowered her head a bit, "I'm not all that young and you aren't that much older than me. Besides, I have never cared about things like that, and you shouldn't either."

"I just wanted you to know I can be fun, if I try," he said.

"You are fun, but miniature golf? I haven't done that on a date in 20 years."

He laughed a little, "I've never done it on a date."

"Well then, maybe next time we should miniature golf, just so you can say you've done it."

"Maybe."

"Right," she said, "maybe. So, I like the music so far, that kid is good."

"I know, he is good. I could only wish to play like that."

"I haven't heard you play your clarinet in awhile."

"I know," he said with a bit of regret, "I haven't. I really haven't played much since I graduated high school, just isn't the same, I still like it, but it's not the same."

"What happened?"

"In high school I was in the marching band. It was the best part of those four years. Even though I didn't have any friends, the band was like my safe haven, no one ever really made fun of me, and it was nice to belong to something."

"I had no idea you were in the marching band."

"Yeah, it was great!" he was getting excited just thinking about his glory days. "Think how wonderful the world would be if life were like a marching band."

Natalie was enjoying his enthusiasm but did not quite understand, "what do mean? A world like a marching band?"

"Just think about it, everyone would always be in step with each other," his eyes glistened as he spoke. "Everyone would move in the same direction, keep perfect time, wear matching clothes, and take the same size step! It would be beautiful, marching bands are beautiful."

"Sounds a bit communistic to me," said with a laugh, "everyone doing exactly the same thing at the same time, following some person in a funny hat who's carrying a decorated stick."

"Marching bands are not communistic, marching bands are above those kinds of things, Natalie. They're only for peace."

"I should have taken you to see a halftime show at a PAC 10 game, not jazz in the park."

"Oh, this is great, but a marching band is the ultimate art form." He sighed and a smile crossed his face. "Everyone in a marching band has the same goal, I just remember everyone being nice and accepting. I think it was the only time in my life were I truly felt like I belonged to a group, I mean the most popular girl in school was my sand-partner, we shared our music, and she would talk to me—sometimes. I learned a lot from that band; let me tell you they were a wild group, some—well most—smoked pot. Crazy times."

"Did you ever try a little?" she said teasingly.

He lowered his head and looked away.

"You did, didn't you," she smirked.

"A little," he said. "And that is exactly why I don't like taking pharmaceuticals or putting any drugs in to my body. I leaned my lesson."

"You wild and crazy guy!" Natalie said with a little too much pride. "That's kind of hot."

"It is not."

"Sure it is," she said just before giving him a kiss.

"You know what is really hot?" Monk said, "not sitting on the ground."

"We are sitting on a blanket, and it's romantic, okay," she said touching her index finger to the tip of his nose.

He smiled at her and knew he could endure the ground and out door dinning just because she was there, and because he was still a little anxious to show her he could act young. Monk was positive young people sat on the ground and ate. As he looked at her he felt a small splash of wetness on the top of his hand, Monk looked down and observed the water droplet, then felt another.

"I think it's starting to drizzle," Natalie said peering skyward through the bare branches of the tree. The water started to fall with more authority, and soon it was enough of a nuisance to need to seek shelter.

"Oh God," Monk groaned, elongating his words.

"It's okay," she said, gathering their things. She looked around knowing Monk needed to get out of the rain. She took his hand and they dashed across the street to find a dry spot under a building's eve. They wiped the water from their faces and watched as the other concert-goers did the same.

"I hate being in the rain," Monk said.

"But the rain is a good thing."

"Maybe. When I'm inside."

Natalie said, "you know, rain is the earth's natural cleansing system. It takes the dirty particles in the air—like smog—and pulls them out of the sky thereby cleaning the air we breathe." This was something she learned from watching National Geographic, and she could go further but felt a greater need to get home because light gusts of wind were blowing the rain right at them.

"So," Monk said, "not only is water falling on me, but dirt and grime as well. I need a wipe."

She winced, realizing it was not the best time to try to impress him with her random bits of knowledge. "I guess so," she said softly, looking at his wet hair and handing him a wipe.

"I don't think the rain is stopping," Monk commented.

"You may be right." Natalie grabbed his hand once again, "we need to brave the storm if we want to get home any time tonight."

"What are you suggesting?" He said worried.

"I think we should run for it."

"What? Run home?"

"Well," she said, "run to that building over there." She pointed to a building that was blocking the rain.

Monk asked, "then what."

"Find another building or something and do the same thing until we get home. And we can use the blanket to cover our heads." She let a smile cross her face, "it could be fun."

"No, I would rather sit on the ground again. Lets just get a cab."

"I thought you didn't like cabs."

"Desperate times," he said, holding an arm in the air.

"If you see one we'll take it. But other then that we are walking home. Well, more like sprinting, catching our breath and sprinting home."

His face looked tense.

"Do it for all the marching bands of the world."

"That makes no sense," he said.

"Fine," she tightened her grasp on his hand, "here we go."


	8. The Greatest Love

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**THE GREATEST LOVE**

The rain just kept falling—and falling, and falling. Natalie and Adrian just kept running—and running, and running. They would run to one usually tiny spot of the sidewalk where an overhang granted a bit of reprieve from the elements. Monk would use the picnic blanket to wipe away as much of the rain he could before a lively Natalie would pull him back to their adventurous journey home. Natalie was having fun.

Happiness filled Monk as he listened to Natalie laugh while they took a rather interesting path home. The path was to accommodate the fact that Monk could not handle too long in the rain. But as their adventure continued Monk could feel himself having fun as well, and his fun was only in being with her and seeing her happy.

In one early and novice attempt to run across the street, Monk placed the blanket over their heads as a sort of umbrella. This proved to be much worse then he hoped, not only did it do a poor job keeping the water out, but it also slowed them down quite a bit. In the middle of the street he lost his grip on one corner of material, and fought to maintain it in the other had. As Natalie explained, he was creating too much wind resistance. They stood for a few minutes in the cold, laughing about that one.

As her house neared, Natalie was a bit sad to see their nighttime amusement come to an end. Finally, they reached her porch and took a moment to catch their breath as the absurdity of their journey home washed over them. Laughter erupted between the two.

"I need a wipe," Natalie said.

This caused Monk to laugh even more; he reached in his coat pocket pulled out a wipe. "Here," he said handing it to her, "my last one. Use it wisely."

"Thank you," she said taking it. "But this is not your last one."

"I know, but it sounded good."

"You know, Adrian, I like it when you laugh. You should do it more often."

He smiled, "I'll try."

She unlocked the door, and they stepped inside. Drops of rain-water dripped off their clothing and onto the floor.

"You two are making a mess," Julie said with a smile, standing in the living room.

Monk looked to Julie and pointed outside, "it's raining."

"Yes, I can see, but you didn't have bring the rain in the house," Julie said.

Natalie took off her jacket, "I need to get into some dry clothes."

Monk stood stiffly, as if the wetness had somehow paralyzed him, Natalie took notice. She helped him remove his coat, and still he remained stiff.

"You're funny," she laughed.

"I'm wet."

"You're funny and wet," she wiped some dampness from his brow, "kind of cute too."

"Hey mom?" Julie interjected, "isn't that exactly what you said about the dog when we gave him a bath yesterday?"

Natalie and Adrian both looked at Julie as a mischievous grin crossed her face. Natalie smiled too and couldn't be mad, that quick wit Julie possessed was from Mitch.

"Are you trying to start trouble?" Natalie joked with a raised an eyebrow, "Adrian will never want to see me again if he knows that I find Skippy," she pointed to the dog, "as lovable as he is."

"No, I really don't mind," Monk said with a smile, trying to be apart of the girl's fun.

Monk was becoming less stiff.

"Well, I'm going to go change," Natalie said.

Adrian looked down at his wet shoes, "me too." He went to the guest room where he kept his extra set of clothes.

Upon returning to the living room, Monk quickly went to the entry and cleaned up the mud and water he and Natalie had tracked in before he collapsed on the sofa next to Julie.

"So," he said, "how is your math coming?"

"Well, fine I guess. Though, I really hate math."

"Need help?"

Julie looked at her math book then to Monk, "Yes, but I don't want to do it now, how 'bout tomorrow?"

"I'll be here," Monk said.

"Thanks."

"Julie," Monk asked, "what is this father-daughter dance going to be like? I have no idea what to do."

She thought about it, "you know, I'm not sure," Julie said. "I've never been to a father-daughter dance."

"That makes two of us."

"All I know is that it's formal, and starts at seven," Julie grinned. "Oh, and they'll have refreshments."

Natalie joined them, her hair still a bit damp. For a while, Monk and Julie chatted about math, the dance, and the wonders of marching bands. As Natalie looked on—only interjecting here and there—she paid close attention to Julie and the way she connected with Monk. Adrian and Julie were forming unique relationship, and in many ways Julie was able to connect with Monk in a way that Natalie couldn't—it would be some time before Natalie fully understood why.

Julie had her whole life ahead of her, and Monk was acutely aware of this. He felt increasingly propelled to protect her and ensure her well-being. Though he had no idea how to go about such things, he was satisfied to just wait, listen, and help her with her math homework, maybe even her history homework too.

Julie eventually went to bed, her dog loyally followed. Adrian and Natalie watched Julie climb the stairs to the second floor. He looked from Julie to Natalie and could see how alike they were.

"You've done a wonderful job," Monk said with a warm, heartfelt tone. "I admire you."

"What?" she said so softly that he almost didn't hear her.

"I don't know how you've done it," he elaborated, "I could have never raised a child alone after losing Trudy. I can barely handle myself as it is."

She sat closer to him, "you would have been able to, I'm sure."

"No, I don't think so. I was such a mess, I still am. After all these years I still wake up crying, I still feel sick."

"So do I." She said, "I will always feel like I'm a little lost, just waiting for Mitch to come home and point me in the right direction." She took his hand in hers, "I had Julie to take care of, so I had to move forward, but the truth is I don't know if I'll ever move on."

He thought about that.

Natalie continued, "If you and Trudy had a child, you would be doing the exact same thing I am. Having a child changes the way a person thinks and acts, for the better." She looked deep into his eyes as tears began to fill hers. "The pain of losing Mitch will never be as great as the pain of knowing that my daughter will never get her father back. It's agony to think she never really got to know him. She deserves a father."

He put his arms around her and traced reassuring circles on her back, the same way she often does for him.

"That's why I was able to do it," she said. "That's why I know you could have done it, because the love a parent has for a child will always be the greatest love. She will always be _my_ greatest love."

She stretched out on the sofa with her head resting in his lap. Monk looked down at her, stroked her blond hair and said, "I really do admire you. In fact, I often wish I was more like you." He gathered his thoughts for a moment before continuing, "You're independent and brave, compassionate and strong; I have never fully been all of those things. You've gone through the same pain I have, but somehow you still function."

She smiled and simply said, "you are all of those things, and you don't need to be more like me. You're wonderful just as you are."

Adrian continued to stroke Natalie's hair as they both allowed their thoughts to drift far beyond the living room. It was Natalie who brought them back and broke the silence.

"I wish you could have met Mitch," she said with a foggy grin. "I think the two of you would have gotten along well."

"It's funny you say that," Monk returned, "I have always thought you and Trudy would have liked each other."

She reached up and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and muttered with a heavy heart, "If only…"


	9. While You Were Sleeping

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING**

The first rays of sunlight were beginning to pour over the San Francisco morning just as the rain did only a few hours ago. Though his eyes were closed, Monk could clearly sense the darkness getting brighter. Through his half-asleep conscious, Monk could feel a painful stiffness in his neck, and warmth against his body. He opened his eyes and saw he was still in Natalie's living room. Reaching to the back of his neck, he gently rubbed the knot that was developing and realized he was situated rather awkwardly on the sofa. He was—more or less—lying down, but on a slight angle, with one leg hanging off the side. Tucked-in, occupying the small space between his body and the backrest of the sofa was Natalie.

She was warm against him. Monk removed his hand from the back of his neck to push away the hair splayed over her face. All at once, he was swept away by how beautiful she was. He always _saw_ her beauty, but on this particular morning he was affected so deeply and newly by it. With her head resting against him, Monk felt like he was protecting her; from what, he did not know. But he did know that it was a wonderful feeling of purpose, a purpose he long for.

In his first full and conscious effort to protect Natalie, Adrian Monk decided he would protect her from one of her least favorite things: waking up before nine in the morning. She loved to sleep late, till noon even, so he would give it to her.

Monk thought long and hard about how he would accomplish this task of ensuring her slumber. Several factors were working against him: one being the increasingly bright morning sun that washed through her living room windows and would surely wake her, another was the fact that her bedroom was located on the second floor. He pondered his youth—and lack there of—once more, and this time for good reason. He knew if he could carry her to bed, she could sleep away the morning. But could he do it?

With the room brightening, he knew he had to think fast. He stood up slowly, making as little noise as possible, and decided he would try to carry her to her bedroom. So he leaned over and attempted to place an arm under her, but he withdrew—it was a bad angle. After repositioning, ensuring maximum leverage, it seemed he would be able to do it after all. So Monk placed his arms under her warm body and tried to lift, but it was difficult; she was not that heavy, but he was not that young or very awake. Monk did manage, though, to pick her up.

He very slowly made his way to the staircase and stood at the bottom holding her, now regretting his attempt. All he could picture was getting nearly to the top and tripping or having some unforeseeable accident occur, and they would both tumble down the stairs. As he was thinking of all the possible mishaps—and feeling the burning in his arms—Natalie slowly opened her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked, half-asleep.

"Well, here's the thing. I was going to take you to your room, so you could sleep longer. But that didn't really work because… you're awake," Monk said.

She smiled, "put me down."

He gladly did as he was told.

"I can walk the rest of the way."

She ascended to the second floor with a heaviness to her step. Monk was by her side, making sure she didn't stumble. When they got to her room and he pulled back the covers to allow her to slip beneath the sheets. Once she was in bed, he pulled the covers over her body and sat at the edge.

"Thank you," she said, placing a hand on his face.

"Go back to sleep," he whispered. "Don't worry about getting up. I'll make Julie breakfast and handle things."

"You sure?"

"Yes," he smiled, "I'll take care of everything." He didn't know what _everything_ entailed, but he figured he'd handle it.

With her hand still on his cheek, she traced a small circle with her thumb. "Thank you for what you said last night."

A shy smile enveloped his face as he nodded, "about the marching bands."

"No," she chuckled, "what you said about me doing a good job with Julie. When you said you admired me…well, it meant so much to me. In fact, I don't think anyone has ever said they admire me. It's nice to hear things like that every now and again."

He leaned in and gently kissed her soft lips. When he drew away, she reached behind his neck and tenderly pulled him back for another kiss. His entire body pleasantly tingled.

"You're beautiful," he said.

"So are you," she returned.

Before heading to the staircase, Monk went to Julie's room and checked on her. She was asleep with her dog at the foot of her bed. He saw how innocent she was and how much she needed protecting, even more than Natalie. That same feeling of purpose overtook him again, and it was equally nice. He stood in the doorway for just a moment longer before heading downstairs.

Monk felt like he was being followed, and he knew why. Skippy was tagging along to the first floor. Monk pretended that there was nothing behind him, especially not a dog, but he could hear the dog's nails taping on the wooden floors. Monk stopped and the dog stopped walking as well, Monk began walking again and so did Skippy. This pattern continued—much to Monk's frustration—for several cycles. Finally, Monk took a deep breath and confronted the dog.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered loudly.

Skippy just stood there and tipped his head to the right.

"Okay, I don't like you. It's nothing personal, but you are an animal and I and a human and… we shouldn't even be having this conversation," Monk leaned against the dinning room table, bracing himself.

The dog walked over to his food bowl and nudged it. Monk looked at the dog then to the bowl. Monk found the box of latex gloves he hid in one of the cabinets—for emergencies—and put a pair on before grabbing the bag of dog food.

"I think you may be hungry," Monk stated. He put ten pieces of dog food into the bowl. "Okay, there you go. You can leave me alone now."

Skippy ate.

"I know how much Julie and Natalie like you, so I will try to tolerate you, Skippy," when he said _Skippy, _he clearly defined the syllables. "And by tolerate, I mean ignore. I want to be upfront about this so you can stay at least five feet away from me at all times, it is better this way."

After he let the dog outside into their small backyard, Monk went to the living room to straighten up a bit, and as he was doing so, he heard something. But it wasn't like he really heard anything. Without any movement, just his light breathing, Monk stood and listened for whatever it was he thought he heard—or didn't hear. Everything was quite. He slowly sat on the sofa and gazed at his surroundings, not all that different from the way he looks at a crime scene, and tried to figure out what it was. Something was bugging him, but to Monk, surprisingly, it didn't feel like a bad thing.

He showered and shaved, put on his second pair of extra clothes, and went to make breakfast while the girls were still asleep. As he was cooking, that same sensation of hearing something found him again, only he knew he didn't hear anything. Monk traced his index finger over his eyebrow and tried to think. Nothing.

When the food was done, he put it in the oven to keep warm as he set the table. He knew breakfast was not a formal affair in the Teeger house, very little was, but he couldn't help himself. With a second glace at the newly set table, Monk knew what he had heard—but didn't really hear. It was a perfect silence.

Everything was so quite, just as his mornings have been since Trudy died; but on this morning the silence was exceptionally different. He could feel it. It was a silence that would be broken soon, a silence that wasn't lonely or cold. It was a silence that Monk instantly fell in love with once he understood it.

He wasn't alone in the house, upstairs his girls slept, safe and sound. Not being alone was new for him, a distant memory. Knowing they were there made his solitude exciting with anticipation. Suddenly, he wanted them to wake up in the worst way, just so he could talk to them, listen to them, break the lovely quite—but he knew he could wait, he would wait forever. So, Monk sat at the table and savored his newfound understanding, a weight had been lifted. He looked fondly at the three place settings, and was overjoyed that there was room for him.


	10. Good Judgment

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**GOOD JUDGMENT **

Monk sat down and smiled with a pleasant and warm expression on his face. Dr. Kroger couldn't remember a time when Monk looked so comfortable in his surroundings.

"It is a beautiful day," Monk said, tipping his head to the window.

Dr. Kroger looked out at the thick, early February fog and shook his head, "some people might see it that way."

"I do."

"I'm happy to see you in such an agreeable mood, Adrian."

Monk just sat there and smiled.

"In the last few sessions you have talked about you and Natalie having a romantic encounter, and that was something you were feeling a bit anxious about. How are things now?" Dr. Kroger said.

"Better. I sat on the ground the other day," Monk said with a bit of pride. "Natalie took me to see some jazz in the park; we ate on the ground too, you know, outside."

The doctor tilted his head, "and you enjoyed this?"

"Well, I did because she was with me. I wouldn't do those kinds of things on my own, but she made it okay."

"That is wonderful to hear," Dr. Kroger said. "So does this mean the two of you dating?"

Monk had not thought about the terminology that goes along with forming a relationship, but now that the question was posed, he did not have an answer. "I don't know?" Monk said honestly, "we haven't talked about that."

"It sounds like it's implied if you two are spending romantic time together."

Monk said, "then I guess we are."

"This is a big step, Adrian. A good step."

"I'm still scared," Monk said with heaviness.

"Then you're human, and alive, and not alone. I'm sure Natalie is a little scared too."

Monk smiled, "she isn't scared of anything."

Dr. Kroger raised an eyebrow, "I bet she is scared of more than you know, I bet she worries more than you realize."

Monk stayed quiet and Dr. Kroger dared not interject.

Monk finally said, "last night I realized something that I always knew but never understood: I know I will never move on. Trudy's death tore from me what little sanity I ever claimed, and I go through every day in hopes to find and to fix. I come here, and see you, to try to help me in the process of moving on, but I shouldn't. I shouldn't try to move on because I won't."

"Now Adrian, that is not true."

"Let me finish."

Dr. Kroger nodded his head.

"Last night Natalie was talking about her husband, Mitch, and she was telling me about how much she misses him. She was saying everything I feel. But then she said that because of Julie, she had to move foreword with her life, but she didn't know if she would ever move on."

Dr. Kroger listened intently, but didn't say a word.

"I realized what I have been doing wrong," Monk said. "All this time I have thought about things in terms of moving on, but I've always known I can't and I don't want to. So I've been stuck. What she said made sense; I need to move forward, but I don't _need_ to move on. I think I can do it with her."

"That is very profound," Dr. Kroger said.

"From now on, I just need to move forward."

Dr. Kroger smiled, "I think Trudy would be very proud of you."

Monk smiled as well, and let out a big, exasperated sigh as he whispered, "forward."

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

"How are you feeling?" Natalie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Like I jumped out of a plane and broke both of my legs," her brother, Jonathan said.

"What are you doing jumping out of a plane in the first place?"

"You sound like mom."

"I was just kidding," Natalie winced, "forget it."

Natalie looked around her brother's childhood bedroom—situated on the second floor of their parent's house—and was hit with nostalgia. "It was a lifetime ago when we would run around this house chasing each other and yelling at the top of our lugs."

He smiled and remembered, "good times."

"The best," Natalie agreed.

"Where is Julie?" Jonathan questioned.

"With mom, she is introducing her to the girls from the fundraising society."

"Poor kid. How could you let that happen?"

"Julie likes it because when she goes along with mom's antics, she gets a hundred dollar bill."

Jonathan laughed, "smart, I'm sure she gets her cleverness from Mitch."

"You're probably right," Natalie said.

"So how are _you_ doing?" Jonathan asked.

"I'm fine, just getting along."

"You still work for that detective?"

"Yep, Adrian Monk."

"That's good and exciting. Are you seeing anyone between homicides?" Jonathan inquired.

"Yep," Natalie smiled, "Adrian Monk."

He wrinkled his brow, "you're dating your boss?"

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

"Because it is."

Natalie lowered her head, "I really like him, and I've grown to care for him very much."

"Do you like him because the two of you share common goals and interests, or do you like him because you're a woman and he's a man and there is nothing left to do but get together?" Jonathan rubbed a sore leg, "you're both widows and the two of you must spend more time together than apart, it was only a matter of time. Now all that's left to do is breakup and lose your job."

"Are you trying to be a jerk?"

"I'm looking out for you," he said with sensitivity.

"I know, but you could be a little nicer about it."

"Sorry." He took along pause, "what do you see in that guy? I think you could do better."

Natalie said, "You've only met him once, and first impressions are not his strength."

"Okay, but how many years does it take to get the right impression of him?"

"He is not as bad as you think," she said. "He is who he is; there is nothing false about him. Adrian may have a lot of shortcomings, but I know that. I never feel like he is trying to be someone different, but I see him trying to be a better him."

"Well that's all fine and good, I mean I don't hate the guy, but is he the kind of man that can be there for you and Julie?" Jonathan said, "you're job is to take care of him, will he assume that it will always be you taking care of him and he doesn't need to take care of you? "

"You're acting like I'm going to marry him." She said, "And I think he would take care of us, in fact he already does. He's taking Julie to the dance."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and he hates social situations and punch, but he's going. He's going because the idiot who was going to take my little girl to the dance jumped out of a plane without a parachute."

"I had a parachute," he said. "But one nice thing is not going to win me over."

Natalie frowned, "it's not you he needs to win over."

He smiled and took his sister's hand, "it should be."

She laughed, "I really like him." She said more seriously, "there are a million reasons why it would be easier and more logical for me _not_ to get too involved with Adrian, but I can't help it—I think I could fall in love with him." She said that last few words slowly, surprised she said them aloud.

"Well," he paused. "You think you could be in love with him?"

"Yes."

"As long as you're happy," he said.

"I am."

"If you fall completely in love with him—and I mean completely—I'll know it's for the best. You tend to have good judgment when it comes to people. Unlike me."

Natalie laughed, "It's a gift."


	11. Fathers are People Too

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**FATHERS ARE PEOPLE TOO**

"You look fine, Monk," Stottlemeyer said.

"Are you sure?" Monk asked.

"Yes, and if we don't leave soon, you'll be late. And we don't want that, now do we?"

"No."

Stottlemeyer smiled, "No sir, you can't be late." He pointed to the table, "don't forget the corsage."

"Right," Monk grabbed the corsage, took one last look in the mirror, and darted after the Captain, who was already on his way to his car.

In the car, Monk was silent. Stottlemeyer patted him on the shoulder, "breath."

"What do I do when I'm there?" Monk asked.

"Well," the Captain thought, "I've never been to one of these things, but I do have kids, and I know kids don't like hanging out with fathers when their friends are around. So, I'm guessing the daughters will be hanging out together while the fathers are exiled to a corner of the auditorium."

"So, do I have to talk to the fathers? I don't know what fathers talk about. Just turn the car around and take me home."

"Fathers are people too, Monk. They talk about the same stuff other guys do."

Monk winced, "that's reassuring."

"Right," Stottlemeyer said. "They'll talk about sports, but don't worry, okay. Just tell them you don't have time to watch sports anymore, because you're time is taken by all the murders that you solve."

"That will work?"

"Well, maybe, at least they'll know not to talk to you about sports."

"Okay."

"So Monk," the Captain said, "you and Natalie getting along fine?"

"Yes, we've always gotten along," Monk said.

"That's not what I mean," he raised an eyebrow. "I mean, is your romantic relationship with her progressing well? You know what I'm saying?"

"Oh," Monk nodded his head, "I still don't know what you mean."

The Captain smiled, "never mind. I know you know this, Monk, but I'm going to say it anyway. Natalie is a wonderful, beautiful person, and she could have any man she wants, but she has chosen to give you a chance. That is a big deal. She has chosen you, just like Trudy did."

"I know."

The car slowed, then stopped in front of the Teeger house.

"This is your stop," Stottlemeyer said. "See you later."

Monk got out of the car, and before he shut the door he said, "Thank you."

"No problem, it was on my way home."

"Not just for the ride," Monk said. "Thank you for everything."

The Captain smiled, "Tell Natalie I said 'hi'."

"I will."

Monk rang the doorbell and Natalie answered. "Hey, right on time," she said.

He entered and gave her a kiss on the lips.

"Julie is almost ready," Natalie said. "This is very kind of you. I can't tell you how much this means to me and Julie."

"It is my pleasure."

Natalie hugged him and lingered against his body for a few seconds. When he wrapped his arms around her, she felt safe and warm. In his arms she felt was a protected place to be. "Well," she said, pulling away and looking him over. "You look very nice." He was wearing a solid white dress shirt under a dark coat, and dark pants.

She stepped back and looked at him again, "do you have a tie?"

"No, I never wear them. I don't like ties."

"I know, but it is kind of a formal event. It would be nice if you had one."

"Well," he said, grabbing his collar, "they're never perfectly straight."

Natalie nodded her head and smiled, "I'll go tell Julie you're here."

She told the nearly ready Julie that her father-for-the-night had arrived. Natalie then went to her room and opened one of the dresser drawers. In the drawer were some of Mitch's old clothes, it was a collection of his things she couldn't through out. She shuffled through some of his T-shirts—ones she sometimes wears to bed—and found the item of her search.

"Adrian," she said, returning to the living room, "did you know Mitch also hated wearing ties?"

"He didn't like them? Good man," he beamed.

"He _really_ didn't like them," she smiled. "But, when he had to wear one, Mitch would wear this white one," she held out a stark white silk tie. "He liked it because if he wore it against a white shit, it was harder to see it. Almost as if he wasn't wearing one."

Monk looked at the tie, "I never thought about that. It would be difficult for others to tell if it was straight or not…though, I'd know."

"Exactly. So, I was thinking you might want to wear it tonight?"

Monk nodded his head hesitantly, "okay." He took off his jacket and filliped up his shirt collar.

Natalie moved forward and draped the tie around his neck to methodically tie it to perfection. He watched with great fascination, she was glorious in her simplicity and mysterious in her complexity—Natalie was dynamic, and Monk liked it. He loved how she smelled, it was so simply uninhibited by perfumes that it enchanted him. That, combined with her fingers lightly gracing his chest as she tied the tie, was putting him into a trance.

"All done," she said, straightening the tie and folding down the collar. "Take a look and tell me what you think."

Monk walked to the mirror and looked at his new clothing item. Natalie then moved behind him helped him slip back into his jacket.

"I like it," he said.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you can hardly see it," Monk said, though he could see it, but he wanted her to be happy. And the truth was Monk was deeply touched that she wanted him to wear it.

As they were inspecting the tie, Julie walked down the stairs and joined them. Monk and Natalie both stopped what they were doing and looked at Julie, she was beautiful. Natalie felt a bit of nostalgia flutter inside her, only a few years ago—though it seemed yesterday—Julie was just starting kindergarten, time was moving much too fast. After a bit of a pause, Monk handed Julie the corsage.

"This is for you," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Monk."

Natalie darted to the next room while saying, "wait! I need to get to a picture." She grabbed the camera and ran back to the living room. "Okay, you two. Stand in front of the fireplace," she directed.

They did as they were told.

"Smile," she said. After a few pictures, Natalie set the timer on the camera and ran over to join them for one last photo. Skippy managed to get in the picture as well.

After a short drive, Natalie pulled into a parking spot just outside a path leading to the school's auditorium. She turned the car off and looked to Monk in the front and Julie in the backseat, neither moved.

"Well, you two, I'll pick you up at eleven. Have fun," Natalie said.

Monk got out of the car and shut the door before he began nervously straightening his clothes. Natalie then whispered to Julie, "he will be on his best behavior, I promise."

"I hope so," Julie said with a weak smile. She then gave her mom a kiss on the cheek and got out of the Jeep.

Natalie watched as Monk and Julie started down the long path to the building that had a large hand painted sign above the doors that read "Welcome Fathers and Daughters." She continued to watch until they were just about to the door, then she noticed Adrian slightly jetting his arm out to the side, bent at the elbow. Julie looked up at him and looped her arm through his. Together, arm in arm, they entered the under the large sign.

As Natalie headed home, the image of the two entering together was branded into vision. It brought tears to her eyes.

The tears were both happy and sad. The tears were initially happy because Julie had a male role model in her life that cared enough about her to take her to a dance. That was a very happy thought. But the tears were also sad because Mitch was not around, that would always be Natalie's huge source of sadness. On top all this Julie was not so little any more making Natalie's emotions a bit fragile. In her driveway, she sat in her car for a little while wiping the tears from her eyes trying to view the pictures on her digital camera she had just taken of Monk and Julie, and the one of all three of them.

When Natalie entered the empty house she smiled thinking about all the great times spent in it. But more than that, she knew there were good times ahead. All the sadness that had accompanied her home left in an instant. She felt as if something were about to change, or maybe things were already changing.


	12. Let’s Party

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**LET'S PARTY **

Just as Stottlemeyer predicted, the daughters where dancing, talking and giggling with each other leaving the fathers huddled in the corner like wrangled sheep. The gym/auditorium/cafeteria was decorated nicely with balloons and streamers as a DJ provided music.

As Monk and Julie entered, Julie could feel his arm grasp tighter around hers. She could tell he was uncomfortable and nervous—more than normal. She patted his arm and led him to a chair.

"Here," she said, trying to loosen his grasp, "you sit down."

He sat and took a deep breath, "let's party," he said less than convincingly.

"Julie," a young girl's voice called, gaining the attention of both Monk and Julie. "I'm so glad you're here, I can't hang out with my dad any longer." The girl stood with her hands on her hips.

"How long have you been here?" Julie asked the girl.

"Not very long," the girl replied. "Who is he?" she pointed to Monk.

Monk just smiled.

"This is Mr. Monk, my mom's boyfriend." Julie then turned to Monk, "Mr. Monk this is my friend, Kelly, she lives just down the street in the yellow and white house."

"Nice to meet you," he said.

Kelly smiled then turned to Julie, "common, let's go dance."

"I don't know," Julie said, turning to Monk.

Monk stopped her before she could say any more, "go ahead."

Kelly grabbed Julie and started towards the dance floor; Monk could here Kelly talking as they left: "_boyfriend_ is a weird thing to call a guy who is that old. He's not exactly a _boy_ now is he? After thirty-five, dating people should be called _old-person-who-I-can-tolerate-friend._"

Just as the girls ran off, a man approached with two glasses of punch. He was a younger father, built with very defined features and was incredibly proportionate—though his smile was charmingly uneven to one side.

"Kelly," he called, but got no response. He set the beverages down at the table next to Monk. "Mind if I take a seat?"

Monk wanted to say no, but instead he just gave an approving smile. The man sat down.

"Hi," he offered Monk his hand, "I'm Dave Gentry, my daughter is Kelly," he pointed to her.

Monk shook his hand, grabbed a wipe and said, "I just met her, she seems… energetic."

"She sure is. I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name."

"Adrian Monk, I'm here with Julie Teeger."

"Oh," Dave said, "I know Julie, she's great, her and Kelly are always hanging out."

"Yeah," Monk said.

Dave said, "so are you…? How do you know Julie?"

"Well," Monk began, "her mother, Natalie, is my assistant—friend—well, I know Natalie, we're close…"

Dave just nodded at Monk's babbling.

They sat there a while quietly—well, they were quiet, the room was loud with music and teenage girls.

"Hey, Mr. Monk," Julie bounced over to him, "over there," she pointed to a corner of the building, "there's a contest to guess how many marbles are in the jar." She smiled mischievously. "Whoever is closest gets a gift certificate. Let's go guess."

Monk stood, "well, Julie dear, _you_ can guess, but_ I'll_ tell you the answer."

"That's what I was hoping for," Julie laughed.

They made their way over to the jar of marbles and there were fathers and daughters writing down their attempts at answers. Monk waited as the people cleared the area. He gave a slight grin to Julie before going into a fact finding mode. He placed his hands in front of him—fingers splayed—and walked gingerly around the small table that held the jar. Julie watched, familiar with his routine, but soon she realized others were taking notice of his unusual behavior. A small crowd gathered and watched him, some girls were giggling but Monk did not seem to realize he was rapidly becoming the center of attention. But Julie did notice. She wished he would hurry, not so much that she minded his behavior or what people thought of him—or her. But many times she had seen her mother needing to ease Monk out of awkward situations, and Julie knew it might become necessary to ease him out of this one.

Monk put his arms down and looked up seeing a crowd looking back at him. He rolled his shoulders, adjusted his white tie, and slightly motioned for Julie to come over to him, he whispered in her ear the number of marbles and she wrote it down then submitted it.

As they walked away the crowed that formed had completely disappeared, much to Julie's relief.

"Are we going to win?" Julie asked, not really needing an answer.

"Is Lake Baikal the oldest lake in the world?" Monk replied with a little laugh.

"…Yes?..." Julie said, not knowing what he was talking about.

Monk just smiled and winked.

There was a group of fathers sitting around a table on the opposite side of the room laughing and talking the entire night. They were the cool fathers; at least this is what Monk thought. They were younger, good looking, and had money stuffed in every pocket so that when their daughters would ask, they could pull out a bill. They were the kind of men that knew about sports and flirted playfully with responsive young women. They were the complete opposite of Adrian Monk.

On another side of the room there were a smaller group of fathers. They were much more subdued and in the older age bracket. These were the fathers that have done this kind of thing before and were no doubt attending this dance with their youngest child. They, perhaps, were once at the cool-father table years ago, but are now happy in the company of similar men with depleting testosterone.

Monk sat back and observed all of this and was thankful he never had to go back to high school. He did wonder two things, though. Were any of these men former marching band members? And, if Mitch were alive, what group would he have fit into? The first question was not nearly as perplexing and the second, so he concentrated on Mitch.

From everything Monk new about Mitch, it sounded like Mitch was a simple man in many respects. He was decisive and calm, loving and firm; there was a right and a wrong to everything, and little middle ground. After a while Monk figured Mitch would not have fit into any father category either, he would have been above such childish things. He was, as Monk imagined, independent and content not being in a group. This rolled around in Monk's mind for a while and distracted him from the fact that he was not one of the cool fathers—he was not even a father—but the thought that Mitch would have been in his same situation was of infinite comfort, and in a strange way Mitch was keeping him company.

"Mr. Monk?" Julie said, "everyone is kinda dancing with their fathers and stuff, ya know? I thought maybe we could dance once." She paused, "You know what, forget about it."

She started to walk away.

"Julie," Monk called, "I am a very good dancer."

"Really?" She questioned.

"Well, probably not. But I can try."

She gave a thin smile, "Okay."

She looped her arm through his and they made their way to the dance floor amid the other father-daughters. They danced slowly and awkwardly, they looked like every other duo on the floor.

"So, Mr. Monk," Julie said, "what are your intentions with my mother?"

"What?"

Julie let him think his answer over.

"Well, Julie, my intentions are good ones," Monk said.

"Go on."

Monk started to sweat, not from the dancing. "I like your mother very much."

"But what are your intentions?" Julie pushed with a smile.

"Your mom understands…completely." He began, "she understands everything I don't. I just intend to try as hard as I can—for the rest of my life—not to drive her crazy."

"That's good."

"I just want to be a part of her," He gave a warm smile, "I was a part of Trudy, and she was a part of me. The same way your mom and dad were. It was a great feeling."

"So, do you intend to marry her?"

"Do I what?" Monk asked, jaw gaping.

"Do you think you'll ever marry her?"

"Julie, that is just…no, no, no…I have no idea. I just want her to tolerate me," sweat was dripping down his face.

"It's okay Mr. Monk, calm down," Julie chuckled. "I didn't expect you to answer."

"Okay." He took a deep breath, "I just intend to love her. And you."

"You love us?" Julie asked.

He did not hesitate, "more than I can say. But, Julie, I'd like to know that you approve of me being with your mom."

The music stopped and there was a tap on a microphone, it was time to declare a winner of the marble contest. The vice-principal got everyone's attention.

"Okay, we have a winner. In this jar are 359 marbles. And the father-daughter team to get remarkably close with a guess of 358 is Julie and Adrian."

Everyone clapped, but the two were not surprised.

"High-five Mr. Monk," Julie said, throwing both hands in the air.

Monk smiled, "well, it's really ten, but okay." He slapped her hands and they went to get their prize.

When they got it, Monk motioned to the vice-principal. "There has been a mistake," Monk whispered, "there are 358 marbles not 359, someone miscounted."

The man laughed.

"No really," Monk said, "you should count again."

"You two already won, sir. Does it matter?" The man said.

"Yes, you are misinforming the people."

"Right," the man smiled.

"Let me count them."

The man looked at him for a moment to asses Monk's honesty, "we counted 359."

"But that is wrong."

Julie took notice of the situation, "Mr. Monk, I don't think it matters," Julie said.

"You're young, your mother hasn't taught you about these things yet."

"What things?" Julie asked.

Monk turned to the man once more, "just do the right thing—for the kids—and let me recount them. You could ruin the rest of their lives with this mistake."

"I don't think this will ruin their lives."

Monk rolled his shoulders, "if these girls can't trust the number of marbles in a jar, then what can they trust? I'm only looking out for the future."

Julie gave a pleading look to the bewildered vice-principal.

"Okay," he said, "you are more than welcome to recount."

Monk Smiled, "Julie? Would you like to help?"

"No, thank you."

Julie spent the remaining time dancing and running around with the other girls. Every now and again she would look over at Monk who was happily counting—and polishing—every marble. He was almost done counting when Julie joined him.

"So, Mr. Monk, did they get the number wrong?" Julie asked.

"Just a second, Julie," Monk said deep in thought. After a moment he placed one last, freshly polished marble into the jar.

"Okay Julie," Monk smiled with triumph glistening in his eyes, "We were right, I counted twice."

"Thank goodness you recounted," Julie said a bit sarcastically, Monk took no notice.

Natalie had not arrived yet, so Monk and Julie sat on a low retaining wall just outside the building. They sat silently for a while watching all of the fathers and daughters interacting as they left. Julie opened her locket looked at the picture of her family inside. Monk noticed.

"He would be so proud of you," Monk said softly.

Julie looked up, "what?"

"Your dad, wherever he is, I'm sure he's proud of you," Monk smiled sincerely. "I know I am."

"You're proud of me?"

"Of course, you are smart, kind, beautiful…" he took a moment, "if I had a daughter, I could only hope she'd be as wonderful as you."

"Thank you, Mr. Monk," she said. "And by the way, you were a great stand-in dad tonight."

"Really?"

"The best."

There was a bit more silence before Julie began to speak.

"My mom always says that things happen for a reason, even if you don't know what that reason is."

Monk nodded his head.

"I don't think me or my mom will ever know why my dad had to die when he did. Probably the same thing you think about with Trudy. What was the reason?" Julie wasn't so much sad as she talked as she was methodical. She was saying things Monk figured she had spent many hours contemplating.

"It is a tough thing to answer," Monk said. "I wish I could give you that answer."

"But I think we met you for a reason, Mr. Monk. It's kind of as if Trudy and my dad were looking out for us. I'd like to think that they planed for us to meet so that you and me & mom…" she paused, gathering her thoughts, "so that we wouldn't be so lost or alone."

Monk listened, feeling his eyes moisten.

"I think it was fate that we ran into you," Julie said with a smile.

Tears glistened in Monk's eyes. He took her small hand in his larger hand and gave her a tiny kiss on the forehead.

"Thank you," Monk said, "that was most profound and affecting thing I have ever heard anyone say. And I remember everything I've ever heard."

"We're lucky you're around."

Monk smiled, "I'm the lucky one."

Natalie pulled up to the school and they made their way to the car.


	13. Illumination

**Mr. Monk, the Lucky Man, Part II**

**ILLUMINATION **

Julie was beaming and Natalie noticed. The three sat on the front porch in the brisk night air and talked about the father-daughter dance. Julie's enthusiasm was relentless and filled both Natalie and Monk with a great deal of content. Julie relived the marble triumph and let Monk tell about the miscounting and subsequent—and no doubt heroic—recounting.

It was, as Monk observed, a very domestic moment the three were sharing. He liked it very much, and by the way Natalie smiled he figured she liked it just as well.

"Julieeeeee!" an anxious soprano voice rang through the night air.

They abruptly stopped talking and looked down the sidewalk. Kelly was darting toward them.

"Julie," she said reaching the porch, out of breath, "don't you ever answer the phone?"

"What's wrong Kelly?" Natalie asked.

"I need to talk to Julie about highly important matters," Kelly reported. She then turned to Julie, "get your things; you are spending the night at my house."

"What are you talking about?" Julie asked.

"I have big news about Todd Jay," with that the two gave a little squeal.

"Mom?" Julie turned to Natalie, "can I please spend the night at Kelly's?"

"If it is okay with her mom and dad."

Kelly jumped in, "yes, it's fine."

"Okay, I guess."

"Julie," Kelly said, "get your things and meet me at my house. And hurry!" Kelly then darted down the sidewalk to her house as Julie ran to get her things.

Monk and Natalie sat on the front porch a bit bewildered.

"That girl, Kelly, is like a tornado," Monk finally said.

"Yep."

Monk ran a hand down the white tie he was still wearing, "Who's Todd Jay?"

"The cutest guy in school," Natalie said in a high pitched, rhythmic voice, doing her best to imitate a teenage girl.

"Oh," Monk said.

Natalie smiled, "if you continue to hang out around here, you'll know all of the high school gossip."

Julie opened the front door and joined them on the porch, "okay mom, I have my stuff, see you later."

"Wait, I'll walk you," Natalie said as she stood.

"It's just a few houses down."

"I'll walk you."

Julie set her bag down, and ran over to Monk. She embraced him in the biggest, most sincere hug she had. He hugged her back.

She whispered in his ear, "Thank you for tonight. And by the way, I approve." She kissed him on the cheek and was off.

Natalie smiled, "I'll be right back."

Monk watched them walk down the street to Kelly's house.

_I approve_, those simple words rotated in Monk's mind. "She approves," he whispered to himself.

Soon, Natalie was headed back to the house. Monk watched her every move as she walked down the sidewalk at an easy pace. The length of her stride, her flowing blond hair, gently swinging arms, strong and delicate frame: all of her body & soul was magical.

Natalie climbed the steps to the porch and stood in front of Monk who was sitting on the porch swing. He smiled up at her and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her close enough to him so that he could rest his cheek against her stomach. She was warm.

Natalie stroked his hair.

"She likes me," Monk said finally, his head still against her body.

"Julie loves you."

"I felt like a father tonight, at least I think I did."

Natalie laughed slightly. Monk could feel her stomach contracting under his cheek. "Did you like the feeling of being a father?" Natalie asked.

"I loved it."

Monk placed one hand on her stomach next to his face, just under her right breast. He let his fingers move gingerly down her body, over her nearly flat stomach, down the front of her hip, and along her right leg to end just before her knee.

He did it so slowly and unconsciously that Natalie was fascinated, if not a bit shocked. She could feel his every loving touch through her clothing. It was as if he was solving some confounding puzzle. When he stopped, Natalie realized she was a bit out of breath.

She sat down next to him and took his hand in hers. At that moment, she felt for him a warmth and a love that could not be verbalized. Natalie knew that Adrian cared for her daughter a great deal, and for a mother there can be nothing to outshine that. Love was always something Natalie hoped to find again, but more than that, she hoped for a father figure to love and care for Julie, her daughter deserved it.

With a little squeeze of the hand, Monk brought Natalie out of her thoughts. She turned her head and they exchanged lingering smiles.

Natalie looked deep into his eyes, diving into his soul, "I'm falling in love with you."

Monk had no reservations, "I've loved you for so long."

She pressed her lips against his, and in love, the kiss seemed so much more meaningful. On the front porch, they continued like this for some time. For Natalie, being close to him was exhilarating and agonizing; it was as if no matter how close she was to him, she would always long to be closer. But for the first time, she felt as if he would always meet her halfway.

"I want you," Natalie finally said.

"You have me," he whispered.

"No," Natalie took his face in her hands, she hesitated, "I want to make love with you."

He was silent.

"When you're ready," Natalie reassured him, with glowing eyes.

Monk's eyes darted to the ground, and his chest expanded and contracted with a noticeable deliberants. Drawing her to him, Monk kissed her on the cheek and softly said in her ear, "I'm ready."

She looked at him questioningly.

Monk slowly took her hand, entangling his fingers with hers, and led her carefully into the house.

In the entry way Natalie stopped him, "are you sure? Now?"

He smiled timidly and reassuringly all at once, "I think so."

Into her room, they closed the door behind them. It was dark, but still enough soft light to see. He nuzzled her face as they stood next to her bed, his heart racing.

"Natalie," he whispered as she lightly kissed him on the neck. "I haven't done this in a long time."

"That's perfectly okay, neither have I."

"Not since Trudy. She was the only one."

She stopped and realized how big a step this would be for him. "You waited until marriage."

"No." he smiled, "she was just my first, and only."

Natalie rubbed his shoulders and brought her hands to his collar. Removing Mitch's white tie, she held it in her hand and traced her fingers across its smooth surface. Though Mitch was not her first or last, she knew making love with Monk would still be a big step. The only time she had ever looked at a man and felt he was her future was when she looked at Mitch; now Natalie felt that way with Adrian Monk. Her gaze traveled from Mitch's tie to Adrian's eyes and she knew he would be giving a very important part of himself to her. It would be as important as what she is ready to give to him.

"The last thing I want is for us to rush into anything," Natalie said.

He brushed back the hair on her forehead and kissed the very center, "Thank you." He took her hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart, and said, "I want you to be my last."

It took a moment for her to process his words, "what?"

"I love you—and I'm trilled that I know that. Natalie, I want you to be the last person I make love to."

"I love you," she could barely get out the words before his lips were pressed to hers.

Slowly and nervously they unclothed in the safety of a poorly lit room and brought their exposed bodies together; he could feel the weight of her body relying on the strength of his. It was like breathing after being under water for too long, the first few breaths are inconsistent and hurt, but the desperate relief of gaining oxygen is wonderful. For Monk, Natalie had become his oxygen, but it was Natalie who never realized how long she had been under water.

Still standing next to her bed, they held each other desperately. It was a desperation neither knew existed, for so long they each lived with memories of how wonderful love could be, and how badly they needed it. He could feel the healing in her fingertips and the kindness of her touch as she stroked his exposed back. She rested her head on his chest affectionately, enveloped in a masculine embrace.

They made their way into her bed. Gently kissing and caressing, they each had apprehensions but with each touch, any doubt drifted away. Finally, they made slow and silent love, their eyes locked in a continuous gaze.

When they were done, they rested facing each other, holding each other. It was quiet for quite some time, they were overwhelmingly content. She ran her hands through his hair and over his chest, "that was beautiful," she said finally.

"It was beautiful."

The comforting silence lulled them into a dream like state; she soon looked over, fighting a shroud of exhaustion, to find Monk was asleep. Natalie noticed how charming he looked, like a little boy disguised in a man's body. He was innocent, and had the kind of pure heart men don't take with them to middle age, yet he managed to keep his. He would take care of her, and she knew this. She knew better than just about anyone that once he loved, it was forever, obsessively so. The sound of light rain entered her scenes; she pulled the covers closer to her chin as she moved closer to his body, tucking her face next to his. She liked how well he fit in her bed, and fit with her; she tried to memorize and absorb everything about that moment. As the rain and warm bed persuaded her to sleep, she fantasized about how pleasant it would be to wake up in his arms.

Hours later, Monk awoke to the sound of rain dancing on the roof, it was rhythmic and reassuring. He looked to the window, but couldn't see out. Though the curtains were tightly drawn and the room was still fairly dark, the soft morning light filtered in through the window. It amazed Monk how hard that light had to work to get into that room, but some light was able to make it. Passing through layers of atmosphere, thick rain clouds, and a normal San Francisco fog, the beams of light were able to finally seep through her window and illuminate her face.

Her face was all that was exposed to the cool room. Lying next to Natalie, Monk could feel her sleep-warm body radiating beneath the sheets. He was in love. His arm moved a fraction of an inch so that their arms would touch.

With that touch, a sleeping Natalie rolled over and curled up next to Monk's body, draping her arm over his bare stomach and her head nestled nicely against his chest. He held her gently as the rain fell and the light weaved in.

The hard-working morning light was how Monk felt. He has always been bright and always will be, but there has been so many obstacles to fight through, always a rain cloud. Yet there he was, with her, fighting, and succeeding, to be the light that illuminates her face.

The thought of getting up and making her breakfast toyed in Monk's mind, but he soon dismissed it because that would mean leaving Natalie's side—even for a moment, it was a distressing thought. So he lied there, letting her body keep him warm.


End file.
